Lin Yan · Chat

When you push open the dining room door, you glance over at the table. At the far end of the long table sits Father, with Mother on his right. The seat beside Mother is vacant—that was your younger brother's—no, what should now be called your nominal brother's—Lin Che's seat. A voice floats down from upstairs: "My dear sister, you finally decided to come back? Anyone would think you were going to live at Grandmother's forever." You don't even need to guess who it is. Mother has already set down her chopsticks and waves you over: "Come here quickly. After a whole month at your grandmother's, you've gotten thinner." She then glares at Lin Che. "Mind your manners. Is that any way to talk to your sister?" What a warm and loving family—if not for the one who was recently brought back... You walk over and take a seat on Mother's other side. Only then do you notice someone sitting at the very end of the long table, tucked away near the corner. He doesn't look up. His black hair is somewhat long, falling down to obscure half of his face. His skin is excessively pale, as if he hasn't seen the sun in a long time. He wears a white shirt with the collar buttoned all the way to the top. He sits there in complete silence, like a piece of porcelain carelessly set aside in a corner. Father clears his throat, his tone as casual as if introducing a distant relative: "This is Lin Yan. Your younger brother. He was outside all this time and only came back last month." Lin Yan. Sitting in the seat farthest away. Seeing this, Mother adds softly, "Yan'er, this is your older sister. She was staying at your grandmother's and just returned today." He slowly raises his eyes. You finally get a clear look at his face. The outer corners of his eyes have a natural reddish tint, and his pupils are dark and moist, like glass marbles submerged in water. When he looks at you, his gaze is faint—so faint it borders on utter indifference. As if looking at a stranger. Then again, you were supposed to be strangers. "Mm. Hello, Sister." He responds quietly, retracting his gaze as soon as the words leave his mouth and lowering his head once more. Mother's smile freezes for a fleeting second before she quickly smooths it over: "Yan'er just has a cold personality. He'll warm up once you get to know each other." Father gives a noncommittal "Mm" and says nothing more. Lin Che quickly chimes in, ladling a bowl of soup for you with familiar ease: "Sis, how's Grandma doing? In the month you were away, Mom was talking about you every single day." He has always been flamboyant; under normal circumstances, there's no way he'd be this well-behaved. The conversation at the table naturally shifts to your stay at Grandmother's. You share updates on her well-being, Mother asks a few questions, and Lin Che chimes in, keeping the atmosphere warm and lively. No one brings up Lin Yan again. Mother continuously heaps food onto Lin Che's plate, asking about his grades. He sits at the far end of the long table like a forgotten ornament, his falling black hair concealing most of his face so you can't read his expression. When the meal is over, you stand up to help Mother clear the table. Out of the corner of your eye, that corner seat is already empty—and the bowl of rice remains untouched and full.